


i blew it

by jemmasimmmons



Series: dancing in our world alone (let them talk) [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, more sci-ops shenanigans, my longest fic to date, or more specifically: field assessment shenanigans!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemmasimmmons/pseuds/jemmasimmmons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shouldn't be falling in love with his best friend. But under what circumstances had shouldn't ever mean wouldn't?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> This was hugely inspired by two things: amandajoyce118's amazing Fifth Time's The Charm (which everyone needs to go read, like now) and this quote: http://hopsam.tumblr.com/post/62402452673.  
> At this point in the series, I think it's probably getting necessary to have read the previous parts, just to have some knowledge to who other characters and scenarios are. I am planning three more parts to this series, although it is currently on the back burner as I am working on my #bettertogether gift for the exchange on tumblr!  
> Hopefully, the second part to this will be up tomorrow. I have it mostly written but am just editing a few things. Enjoy!

 

“ _ I didn’t want to fall in love. Not at all.” _

 

Leopold Fitz had a problem. A big one.

Normally, he liked problems. Revelled in them, even. He'd spent his entire life up to this point solving problems – he'd completed Rubix cube after Rubix cube as a child, his fingers flying over the coloured plastic squares in a blur. He'd filed numbers into countless sudoku boxes, his pen filling the figures in effortlessly. He had weaved his way around a circuit board the size of his thumb to combat an electric malfunction in a DWARF just the week before.

Fitz liked problems, but more specifically, he liked problems he could  _ solve _ . Problems that involved logic, engineering skills and had a clear solution mapped out with directions he could follow. 

Unfortunately, this problem was none of these things. Mostly, because it involved his best friend. And how he might be a little bit in love with her.

Just a little bit.

Maybe.

 

'This has to be one of the greatest wastes of time S.H.I.E.L.D has ever come up with.'

Jemma, leaning on the wall next to him with her hands behind her back, rolled her eyes up to the ceiling with a sigh. 'Fitz, it's just a field assessment.'

'For people who have no intention of ever going into the field! What even is the bloody point?'

She didn't reply, just bit down on her bottom lip.

The two of them were standing in a small corridor just off of a classroom sized room in a S.H.I.E.L.D assessment facility, waiting for the others in their group to join them. Over the past month or so, every scientist at Sci-Ops had been required to undergo a field assessment; Fitz and Jemma had been in the final group to visit the facility, along with Mark and Connor and two other scientists from their floor. They had already completed both a written and verbal conceptual exam. All that was left, was the practical.

For Fitz, then entire concept of the assessment was ridiculous. He had no intention of ever going into the field. Neither did Jemma. There was absolutely no conceivable reason for either of them to need to take an assessment. Ever.

'I'm sure there is a very reasonable explanation for it,' Jemma was saying as she arched her back against the wall. 'We should ask Mark and Connor when they get out. They ought to know, they've been here far longer than we have.'

Fitz grunted his agreement, but in truth, he wasn't really listening. How could he, when she looked like...well, herself.

Jemma had her head tipped back against the wall, her eyes closed. Their supervising officer, Agent McNally, had told them to dress comfortably and in black for their assessment, as they would need to be wearing tactical gear for the practical (the mere thought of which terrified Fitz far more than he was willing to let on). Jemma was wearing black leggings and a t-shirt, a stark contrast to her usual pretty shirts and jumpers, but one that meant Fitz couldn't stop his eyes from gravitating back to her slim form. Her bare arms were freckled, as was the small patch of skin next to her collarbone, exposed by the low neckline of the t-shirt.

He only realised he had been staring when she pulled her head up and gave him a quizzical look.

'What?' she asked, her head cocked slightly to the side.

'Hmm?' Fitz felt his skin grow hotter at the base of his neck and he tried to shrug nonchalantly, his heart thumping. 'Nothing.'

Jemma shook her head at him and rested it back on the wall. Fitz exhaled, quietly.

He shouldn't be staring at her like that. He shouldn't be thinking about the freckles on her skin, or how that skin might taste if he put his lips on it, or how it might quiver under his touch. He shouldn't be falling in love with his best friend. But under what circumstances had _shouldn't_ ever mean _wouldn't_?

Fitz was jolted out of his thoughts by the opening of a door down the corridor and the sound of two male voices coming towards them. He glanced up to see Agents Mark Taylor and Connor Devon walking together, nervous grins over both their faces.

' _There_ you both are!' Jemma pushed herself off the wall with the palms of her hands and turned to face them. 'You were ages!'

Connor's grin faded. 'Sorry, FitzSimmons. _Somebody_ ,' he said, pausing to glare aside at his partner. 'Decided to take the entire three hours to answer a paper he's taken three times before.'

Mark's eyes widened in innocence. 'Hey, I just wanted to make sure I was doing it right! They might have changed it, you never know!'

Fitz frowned. 'Wait, you've taken that exact paper before?'

'Yeah, three times.' Connor shook his head. 'You'd think they'd change it year to year, huh?'

Mark shrugged in response. 'Probably couldn't be bothered to come up with more interesting questions. There are only so many times you can write instructions on how to hack a facial cognitive biometric system with only a screwdriver and a toothpick...'

Jemma's brow was furrowed. 'Wait. You two have been here three years. Does that mean you have to take a field assessment every year?'

The two biotechnologists nodded solemnly. 'It's a requirement, Simmons,' Mark explained. 'Every S.H.I.E.L.D agent has to take an assessment once a year, to see whether they could qualify for fieldwork, should it ever be needed.'

'But we're scientists,' Fitz protested. 'Not operations agents.'

'They still need scientists in the field,' Connor pointed out. 'You never know what kind of shit might be out there for us to dissect or analyse.'

'Yeah, and I'm perfectly happy not ever finding out in the flesh,' Fitz muttered. Jemma squeezed the top of his arm comfortingly, and her touch sent a shiver running all the way down his spine and his heart skipped a beat.

_Damn it._

'Fitz, chill.' Mark gave him a reassuring grin. 'It's just so S.H.I.E.L.D can see how many field ready agents they have on call. It's a database thing. No one's going to force you head-first into gunfire unless you want to go, you know.'

'And besides,' Connor said, cheerfully as Jemma continued rubbing his arm (Fitz felt like his skin was on fire). 'You still have to pass the damn thing before you get to worry about that, you know.'

'Thanks,' Fitz muttered. 'That's reassuring.'

Mark gave him a friendly smack on the shoulder. 'So, how did the two of you find the written assessment?' he asked.

Fitz snorted, while Jemma smirked.

'Piece of cake,' he boasted.

'Could have done it with my eyes closed,' she said smugly, at the exact same time.

Mark and Connor grinned at one another.

 

 

'Alright, agents, look lively!'

Agent Philbin certainly looked lively, Fitz thought to himself as he followed the agent supervising their assessment through the facility. She was striding ahead of their group so fast, Fitz was almost tripping up over his own feet to keep up with her. Jemma was scurrying along at his side, her ponytail swinging wildly across her back. Fitz had to clench his fists together to stop his hands reaching over to run it through his fingers.

Once the final two agents had completed their written assessment, their small group had been led away from the corridor they had gathered in and were being marched across the facility towards the field simulation.

'So, what's the mission?' Fitz murmured to Mark as they fell into step beside one another.

Mark shook his head. 'It's not like the written one. They change it every year. Last time, Connor and I had to infiltrate an enemy base, undercover, to retrieve an asset.' He hesitated. 'A human one.'

'Ah.' Fitz swallowed anxiously. 'What happened?'

Mark shrugged. 'We managed to get him out of his cell but we were made on our way out of the simulation. So close to passing we were, as well.' He seemed to pick up on Fitz's unease and gave him a lopsided grin. 'Fourth time lucky, right?'

Fitz tried to return the smile but ended up wincing instead. 'Fourth time lucky.'

By this time, they had left the main part of the assessment facility and were encased in a corridor that looked like a hollowed out rod of steel. When she came to a floor-to-ceiling door with a large control panel next to it, Agent Philbin stopped abruptly and turned to face the younger agents.

'Listen up,' she said. 'Beyond these doors is a complete mock up of an enemy research facility we encountered in Brussels a few years back. The facility is hostile; armed guards, S.H.I.E.L.D level security alarms and cameras...everywhere.'

Fitz felt Jemma move a little closer to him, so that her bare arm touched his own.

'Your mission,' Agent Philbin continued. 'Is to retrieve a dangerous substance from the lab at the centre of the facility and make it out with minimal casualties.'

One of their teammates, a female agent Fitz didn't know, hesitantly raised her arm. 'Excuse me, Agent Philbin?' she asked. 'When you say the substance is dangerous...what exactly do you mean?'

The older agent regarded the girl carefully. 'Your assessment is mirroring an actual mission, Agent Fleming,' she replied. 'You will receive only the information the original agents had going in, no more, no less.'

Agent Fleming reluctantly withdrew her hand.

Next to him, Fitz could practically hear Jemma's mind ticking, as she ran down all the potential substances their objective could be and the hazards attached to each one. Her desire to question the agent more was palpable; Fitz knew it was a miracle she had held her tongue long enough for Fleming to ask first.

'Each of you will receive a pack containing equipment related to your field of expertise and a gun, filled with red paint pellets.' Agent Philbin gestured to a group of labelled packs on the ground next to her.

The younger agents picked up their allocated packs. Seeing Jemma's name before his own, Fitz bent down and passed hers over to her. She gave him a quick smile in return, which made his insides turn over on themselves.

'You will now have five minutes to introduce yourselves to each other and put on your tactical equipment,' Philbin announced. 'Then you will be split into pairs and be deployed to your starting positions for the simulation to begin.' Her mouth twitched upwards in a brief smile. 'Good luck.'

Fitz and the others instantly surged forwards as she stepped aside, picking up bulletproof vests and boots.

'Hey.' Fitz glanced up from fastening his vest as the other agent he didn't know gave the group a faint smile. 'What are your fields?'

'Biotech,' Mark answered for him and Connor, nodding towards his partner. 'Taylor and Devon.'

The other agent nodded. 'And you two?' he asked Jemma, his eyes darting across to Fitz. 'You're partners, right?'

Jemma nodded, dumbly. 'Fitz,' she mumbled, gesturing towards him. 'Engineering.'

'Simmons,' Fitz responded, pointing back towards her. 'Biochem.'

Agent Fleming raised her eyebrows and the other agent gave them an odd look. Fitz realised, with an awkward self-awareness, that it probably wasn't normal to introduce your partner before yourself. But it had been automatic, second nature to them both, to think about the other before themselves.

'They usually do that,' Connor put in, helpfully, before things got too awkward. 'You get used to it. How about you two?'

'I'm Jones, mechanics.'

'Fleming.' The girl raised one arm in a half wave. 'Cosmology.'

Jemma raised her eyebrows back at her. 'Since when does S.H.I.E.L.D have a cosmology department?'

Fleming shrugged. 'Since New Mexico.'

The rest of the team nodded. _Made sense_.

'Looks like you're our expert then,' Jones said to Jemma. 'On the substance? What do you reckon it could be?'

Jemma glanced back at Fitz, a brief flash of panic in her eyes. She hated being put on the spot like this, especially when she was already on edge and in front of an audience. Fitz nodded at her encouragingly and watched as her shoulders relaxed, ever so slightly.

'Almost anything, really,' she said, with a one shoulder shrug. 'The information we've been given is frustratingly vague...'

'Could it be volatile?' Fleming asked. 'Like, a bomb?'

'Might not even be a solid,' Jones mused. 'Could it be a liquid? A gas?'

Fitz grit his teeth. He wanted to tell them to back off her, leave her alone. How the hell could they expect her to answer those kind of questions with the meagre information she had? But the sudden irritation in Jemma's eyes told him he didn't need too.

'You might both be thinking too big,' she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. 'It could even be micro-biological.'

Fitz frowned at her. 'You mean like a virus?'

Jemma screwed up her nose. 'Possibly. A bacterial substance would be more likely.'

'That would be difficult to transport out of there. We'd need...'

'Agar, and suitable containers, yes.' Her eyes had a shine to them, a shine Fitz knew only too well. For the first time since they had entered the assessment facility, Fitz felt his heart fill with excitement, and then something bigger, deeper. Love. He quickly squashed the thought before it fully formed in his mind. There wasn't time for that now.

'Better hope it's micro-biological then,' Jones remarked, his eyes passing back and forth between Fitz and Jemma in amusement, like he was watching a tennis match. For some reason, it irked Fitz. Who even was this guy?

Agent Philbin strode back to the centre of the group and checked her clipboard, signalling that their preparation time was up. 'Jones and Fleming, you will be entering the simulation at the east door. Devon and Fitz, here. Taylor and Simmons, west door.'

Fitz blinked. No. He must have heard wrong.

Next to him, Jemma's head shot up. 'Agent Philbin, could you repeat that, please?' she asked, her voice cracking.

'You are partnered with Agent Taylor, Agent Simmons,' Philbin repeated. 'You will enter at the west door.'

Jemma was trembling, by his side. Fitz himself felt like his body was turning to lead and there was a faint buzzing in his ears.

They couldn't split them up. They were partners, they would always be together, no matter where they went. This couldn't be happening. The hope that had been building inside Fitz crumbled.

'Here are your comms,' Agent Philbin continued, seemingly oblivious to their distress. She passed out the small devices to each agent. 'Once you are inside, you will be able to communicate with the other pairs.'

Jemma practically snatched the comm out of the older agents hand; her fingers were shaking as she tried to force it into her ear.

'Here,' Fitz said, quietly, and he leant across to attach the device for her. His own hands weren't as steady as they usually were but he managed to secure the comm in her ear. There was the glint of tears in her eyes and she gave him a wan smile in thanks. Fitz smiled back.

'It's going to be okay,' he whispered, just low enough for her to hear.

Jemma took a deep breath and nodded, her fingers giving his hand a quick squeeze in return.

'One last thing,' Agent Philbin said, her eyes sweeping around them. 'Once you step inside those doors, everything is real. Apart from the bullets, the entire simulation is true to life. The electricity, water, everything is real.' Fitz shifted his pack, anxiously.

'We have been told that this assessment is incredibly realistic. How you act inside the simulation is highly likely to be similar to the way you would behave should you actually be in the field. It may be difficult for you to remember that it is just a simulation, but that is how it has been designed. We want to see how you would act in the field, not how you respond to a test.' She paused. 'Think with your heads. Not with your heart.'

It might have been Fitz's already sky-high anxiety playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn she was looking right at him when she said that.

The group split up into their pairs and Agent Philbin beckoned for the two pairs starting at different doors to follow her. Fitz watched anxiously as Jemma joined up with Mark and the two of them began walking after Agent Philbin down the corridor.

He was hit by the sudden, ice cold realisation that he might not see her again until the assessment was over. A prickle ran down the back of his spine, and even though it was roasting inside the tactical gear, Fitz shivered.

_Come on_ , he willed her. _Turn back_.

Almost as if she had read his mind, Jemma glanced over her shoulder, just before she and Mark turned the corner.

She started a little when she saw he was still watching her, then gave one last, brave smile.

'It's going to be okay,' she mouthed at him. Fitz gave a nod, returning the smile.

Jemma turned the corner, and then she was gone.

 

 

Fitz stood with Connor outside their assigned entry door. They had been given a specific task once they were inside the facility; shut down the alarm system and then the cameras. Once they had done that, the rest of their team could safely enter the facility and, if things went well, rendezvous with them near the lab containing their objective. Unfortunately, Fitz had a terrible feeling things were not going to go well.

Connor gave him a nervous grin.

'Ready?'

'No.'

'That's the spirit.'

The large metal doors slid open and they both ducked inside.

The first thing Fitz noticed was that it was even hotter inside the simulation than it had been in the outside. He and Connor had barely gone three metres from the door before Fitz felt the formation of sweat on his temples and under his gloves.

'Fitz, where's the control panel?' Connor asked.

'Uhh...' Fitz scanned their surroundings. In a way, it reminded him a lot of the halls at the Academy, with dark green walls and a dozen different doors leading off it. He wished it _was_ the Academy, that he was on his way to join Jemma in the lab, not stuck in this godforsaken building trying to rescue something that could potentially blow his brains out.

_Jemma_. She was in here, somewhere, crouching out of the way of the security cameras with a gun in her hand, just as scared as he was. She was waiting for him.

Fitz grit his teeth.

'That one,' he said grimly, and steered Connor into the first door on the left.

There was one guard sitting at the control panel. Connor lifted his gun and shot him in the chest. Fitz jumped at the sound of the gun, and for a moment, was filled with an overwhelming feeling of horror. Then, the agent who had been acting as a guard lifted his hands in the air and left his station, indicating that Connor had taken a killing shot.

Connor exhaled, shakily, then motioned towards the panel. 'All yours, engineering.'

Fitz staggered over to the chair the dead agent had just vacated, his heartbeat still thudding through his head. _It's not real_ , he told himself firmly. _It's just red paint_.

The screens above the monitor showed the cameras from all around the facility and from what Fitz could see, it looked like any other research facility. Labs, and meeting rooms and storage spaces. The centre screen showed a lab that looked bigger than the others, with a glass case in the middle of it. Fitz swallowed. That was where their objective was.

' _What's happening?_ '

Jones' voice deep in their ears made both Fitz and Connor jump.

'Jesus,' Connor grunted, holding his ear. 'I'd forgotten about the damn comms.'

' _Fitz?_ ' Jemma's voice sounded anxious as it crackled in his ear. ' _Are you there?_ '

'Yeah!' Fitz couldn't stop the relief in his voice as he answered her. 'Yeah, I'm here. We're at the control panel.'

He wanted to ask whether she was alright, but decided against it. Agent Philbin's words were still swirling around in his brain: _think with your head_.

' _Can you hack the alarms?_ ' Mark's voice joined the conversation. It was beginning to feel slightly crowded in Fitz's ear now. ' _My legs are going dead from crouching in this janitors closet_.'

'We're on it,' Connor reassured his parter, a relieved grin on his face. He glanced at Fitz. 'Uh...we are on it, right?'

'Oh, yeah. Right!' Mentally scolding himself, Fitz turned his attention back to the panel, his eyes flickering over the many switches and buttons that lay in front of him. It was likely that one of them controlled the alarms system, but that was a risk. He and Connor could spend precious minutes testing the buttons out, maybe even triggering an intruder alarm while they were at it. Fitz's chest tightened when he thought about making a mistake, putting the others at risk. No, it was too risky.

'We need to cut the master control,' Fitz said. 'That will short-circuit all the electronics in the building at the same time: alarms, cameras, lights...everything.'

Connor frowned. 'What about their backup power sources?'

'I'll cut them too.'

' _You can do that?_ ' The surprise in Jones' voice set Fitz's teeth on edge.

'Of course I can bloody do it,' he snapped. 'Give me two minutes.'

Pulling off his pack, he unzipped one of the pockets. Philbin had said their packs were tailored to their fields; Fitz counted several screwdrivers, coils of wire, a caliper and even a miniature soldering iron. Finally, at the bottom of his pack, underneath a pile of odourless meal-bars (which Fitz silently vowed he would never eat, no matter how hungry he got), he found a pair of pliers.

Connor had already bashed in the door to the box where the wires were kept; he stood back to let Fitz look in.

'How exactly is this going to work?' he muttered, as Fitz examined the wires.

'When I cut the wires, all electricity in the building will cut, for a minute. If I cut the back-up wires in time, no intruder alarms or emergency practices will be initiated. Or at least, that's the idea.' Fitz frowned, his hands hesitating over the wires. 'Oh no.'

' _What is it?_ ' Jemma's voice returned to his ear, reedy and high-pitched. ' _Fitz, what's wrong?_ '

He swallowed. 'Uh, the wiring is rigged to emit an electro-magnetic pulse if they're cut. Probably a defence mechanism. If I cut it...it'll cut out our comms.'

There was dead silence in his ear, almost as if he had already cut the connection.

' _Do it_ ,' Fleming's voice cut in, for the first time. ' _You have to do it, Fitz._ '

' _She's right_ ,' Mark agreed, but he sounded reluctant. ' _We'll have to figure out another way to keep in touch._ '

There wasn't really another way, but no one seemed too keen to point that out. Fitz licked his bottom lip.

'Simmons?' he asked hesitantly, no longer worried about how it would sound to the others. He needed her agreement.

There was a brief pause. ' _Cut it, Fitz_ ,' came her heavy reply.

He took a deep breath. 'Take out your comms,' he instructed, before carefully removing his own.

With shaking hands, Fitz lifted the pliers. He hesitated only for a second before bringing them down on the wire. Above their heads, the lights went out with a fizzle and the room was plunged into darkness. Almost instantly, Connor had a touch out and pointing at the box so Fitz could scramble to cut the second wire before any alarms could be triggered.

Connor exhaled. 'Good job,' he whispered.

Fitz didn't answer. Had he done a good job? He'd just cut off his only means of contacting the rest of his team, of contacting Jemma. If anything happened, and he didn't know about it...Fitz shuddered as he caught sight of a paint splatter on the edge of the desk. _It's not real_.

'Let's go,' he said.

 

 

Once they were back in the corridor, however, things started to go wrong.

To start with, low level blue lights came on by the floor, casting an eerie glow. Fitz and Connor glanced at one another.

'That can't be good,' Connor said.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than an alarm started blaring, a shrill cry that made Fitz want to put his hands over his ears and curl up on the floor. Unfortunately, there wasn't time to do that, as three more guards rounded the corner, weapons up.

'RUN!' Connor bellowed, and shoved Fitz down a centre corridor, nearly sweeping the younger man off his feet. Stumbling, Fitz managed to start running, his heart hammering hard in his chest as he ran. What had gone wrong? What had he done wrong?

The sound of shots following them spurned Fitz on, fear making his feet pound the floor even harder. He and Connor were running blind, turning corner after corner at random, their only goal being to lose their pursuers and praying that they didn't run head first into more enemy gunfire. After a few minutes, they collapsed around a corner, breathing heavily and strained their ears to listen out for shots. They were met with silence; somewhere along the way, the alarm had stopped ringing too.

'Reckon we lost them,' Fitz whispered.

Connor nodded, struggling to catch his breath.

Suddenly, there was a klaxon sound overhead, that blared for three seconds then cut again.

'What the hell was that?' Fitz asked.

Connor had gone deadly pale under the unnatural blue lighting. 'That means someone's failed,' he said glumly. 'Already.'

Fitz's skin ran cold, even though seconds ago he had been burning from the heat and the exertion. The only way you could fail this early in an assessment was if you got “killed”. Instantly, his mind jumped to thoughts of Jemma, and of red paint spreading over her chest.

Connor was watching him, his expression careful. 'It's okay to be worried about her, you know,' he said quietly.

Fitz's head snapped up. 'What?'

'Simmons,' Connor said. 'It's natural to be worried about your partner, especially in a situation like this.'

'I'm _not_ worried about her,' Fitz muttered.

Connor shrugged. 'I'm just saying, it's okay if you are.' He ducked his head, rubbing at his wrists. 'I know I'm worried about my partner.'

Fitz winced. From what little Connor had told him, it seemed like this was the first time he and Mark had been split up in an assessment too. He was probably feeling just as lost as Fitz was himself.

Fitz was just about to breach the subject with the other agent, maybe hesitantly offer some reassurance somehow, when Connor took a shaky breath.

'We need to find some way to communicate with the others,' he said. 'We passed another monitoring room a few turns back, it might have some more cameras. If I can get in there, we'll be able to see where our team is.'

'Wait.' Fitz made a 'time-out' sign with his hands. 'You're going to go in there _alone_?'

'It'd be riskier with the two of us.' Connor gave him a weak smile. 'Wait here. I'll be back.'

And with that, he turned the corner and vanished.

Fitz stood awkwardly against the wall, adjusting his bulletproof vest. Agent Philbin had been right; stuck inside the simulation it was getting harder and harder to remember that that was all this was. None of it was real, and yet even the knowledge of that wasn't enough to stop the fear pumping itself around his body.

But, now that he was alone with his own thoughts, Fitz realised that a lot of that fear wasn't for himself. Sure, he was a little bit scared of getting shot with a fake bullet and failing, but mostly he was afraid for Jemma. He was afraid she was the team member who had failed, he was afraid that she was alone, he was afraid that, somewhere, _she_ was afraid, too. And he wasn't there.

He couldn't help it. He had tried and tried over the last few weeks not to fall in love with her, but it was no good. If he was completely honest with himself, that was probably because he had fallen in love with her a long time ago, years ago even. It was just recently that he had allowed himself to see it.

There was a shot, off in the direction where Connor had gone. Fitz jumped, then braced himself but a klaxon never came. Connor must have just shot another guard, going into the monitoring room. Another _agent_ , Fitz reminded himself, an agent pretending to be a guard. _It's not real_.

Suddenly, Fitz heard footsteps, coming towards him around the corner at an alarming rate. He fumbled for his gun, holding it at arms length away from him, his finger on the trigger. He took a deep breath, steadied himself...and stepped out from round the corner.

 


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I don't like this idea.'  
> 'Well, do you have a better one?'  
> 'I didn't say we weren't going to do it. Just doesn't mean I have to like it.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been told my writing contains an excess of the dramatic and commas. I think this chapter kind of proves that point.
> 
> Also, poem credit once again: http://hopsam.tumblr.com/post/62402452673

Almost instantly, another body collided with his, hot and hard.

Instinctively, Fitz let his gun clatter to the floor and brought his arms up to catch the body as it staggered against him.

'Jemma?'

'Oh, thank God!' she gasped, and, once she had regained her balance, reached up on her tip toes to throw her arms around his neck and squeeze him tightly. Fitz only had time to hold her back for a second before Jemma pulled away again, shyly tucking a stray curl back behind her ear. Her entire body was shaking and she was red in the face, breathing hard.

'What happened?' Fitz demanded, his shock overriding his relief at seeing her. 'Where's Mark...I mean, Agent Taylor?'

Jemma shook her head, evidently still getting her breath back. 'He's...gone,' she managed. 'Failed, I mean. He failed. Oh God...'

She leant against the wall with a groan, her arms sagging by her sides. Fitz moved closer to her, anxiously.

'We came out of the broom cupboard,' Jemma said miserably. 'And we were going to try and find a research lab, you know, see if we could find out more about the substance. But then the alarm went off and guards came out...'

Her voice was quivering and Fitz's hands itched to reach out and pull her back into him again.

'Mark got hit,' Jemma continued. 'The klaxon went off and there was blood everywhere and I just ran...'

'Paint.'

'What?'

'It was paint, Jem. Not blood.' _This isn't real_.

'Oh. Right.' Jemma sniffed. 'I'm such a bloody coward.'

'Don't say that,' Fitz said fiercely.

'I am though! I didn't stay, I didn't see if I could have helped him, I could have done _something_...'

'Jemma, there was nothing you could have done. No agent would have expected you to stay.'

' _I_ would have expected me too!'

She slumped backwards in defeat, tears shining in her eyes. A heavy ache hung in Fitz's chest as he watched her. He wished he had the words to make her feel better, but he didn't. And besides, much as he wanted to stay here and talk about it with her, they didn't really have the time to right now.

'Did any of the guards follow you?'

Jemma nodded. 'A few, I think. But I think I lost them.'

'Good, good. That's good.' Fitz's mind was whirring. 'Look, when Connor gets back, we'll have to move. Get to the objective and hope that Jones and Fleming...'

'Manage to meet us there,' Jemma finished for him, nodding. Then she groaned again. 'God, I didn't even find anything out about the bloody objective...'

Fitz was just about to insist again that there was nothing else she could have done, when shots rang out again, from just down the hall. His heart leapt to his mouth and, without thinking, his hands reached out for Jemma. She did the same, so that their bodies were pressed into each other and Fitz could feel the fear vibrate through her body.

Then the klaxon rang out and there was the sound of a door being kicked down, followed by more gunfire.

Jemma's clammy fingers gripped Fitz's own with a death grip and she jerked forward into a run, pulling him after her. For the second time in under an hour, Fitz found himself running through the simulation, but this time with Jemma holding him by the hand and leading him away from the danger.

They ran until Fitz's feet gave way and he tripped, landing hard on his knees. Jemma collapsed next to him, her hand pressed to her side. When Fitz listened, he couldn't hear any more shots.

'Who'd...have thought...' he gasped. 'That being a field agent would involve...so much...running...'

Jemma gave a wheezy laugh, then stopped herself. 'That was Connor, wasn't it?' she whispered.

Fitz nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak.

They sat there for a moment, both of them struggling to catch their breath, but slowly, their breathing regulated. Slowly, they started to take their breaths together again.

Both their original partners were gone now, failed the assessment (which was what this _was_ , Fitz reminded himself harshly when he clenched his fist to stop his fingers shaking). By some minor miracle, they had both managed to make their ways back to one another, and if it had been under any other circumstances, Fitz might have been celebrating that small victory against S.H.I.E.L.D for trying to split them up in the first place.

He glanced aside at Jemma, still panting slightly beside him. Her cheeks were beetroot red and her hair was clinging to her neck in loose strands, but she still looked beautiful. Fitz wondered if this was a permanent thing now; that he would no longer be able to look at her without thinking how beautiful she was. If it was, it was going to make explaining things in the lab a little difficult. He'd never get a bloody word out right.

'Do you think Jones and Fleming are still alright?' Jemma whispered.

Fitz licked his lips; they were already chapped and flaky. 'Probably,' he muttered, truth being he had all but forgotten about the remaining two members of their team. 'What did they have to do before the rendezvous?'

'Secure an exit.' Jemma bit her bottom lip. 'Are we close to the lab where the objective is, d'you think?'

'S'hard to tell. All these corridors look the same to what I saw on the monitoring screen.'

Jemma shook her head, sadly. 'If only we'd managed to get some information from that lab...'

'Hey,' Fitz said, sharply. 'We're not doing that again. It's not your fault. We'll figure it out, we always do.'

She turned to him, with a look of such gratitude it made his insides feel like they were glowing. Then, she reached over to rub his shoulder.

'Connor wasn't your fault either,' she murmured.

It was amazing, how she did that, in the way that he couldn't. How she always knew what he was thinking, what was tearing him up inside and exactly the right words to sooth it. It was a large part, Fitz thought, of what made him love her.

The sound of the klaxon made them both jump; three seconds, followed by three more.

'It's like the bloody Hunger Games out here,' Fitz muttered.

Jemma stared at him. 'You know what this means, though?' she whispered. 'We're the only ones left.'

Fitz closed his eyes, and bit back the curse that was on the tip of his tongue.

_Well, this wasn't what was supposed to happen_.

 

 

They found the laboratory quite by accident.

In fact, if Jemma hadn't yanked him back into the corridor, Fitz would probably have walked smack bang into the guards outside the door of the lab, which would almost certainly have resulted in his failure.

The two of them were huddled against the wall, the door to the lab just a turn of a corner away and absolutely impenetrable. Which posed a slight problem, when the objective of their assessment was tucked safely away inside.

'Fitz,' Jemma murmured. 'I think I might have an idea.'

 

 

'I don't like this idea.'

Jemma rolled her eyes. 'Well, do you have a better one?'

Fitz scowled. 'I didn't say we weren't going to do it.' He tugged at the wire he was holding in his hands. 'Just doesn't mean I have to like it.'

They had uncoiled a length of the wire Fitz had at the bottom of his pack, and attached it between either sides of the corridor so that it was held taunt about a foot off the ground, like a trip wire. Then, Fitz had attached either end of the wire to the electrical cores of the low level lighting in the walls, so that the it was fused with electricity. Jemma had assured him that the voltage was high enough to knock the guards unconscious, but would not inflict any permanent damage.

'We've already had four casualties on our team, we've as good as failed already,' she said quietly. 'We've got nothing to lose, at this point.'

'Right,' Fitz echoed, glancing up at her. 'Nothing to lose.'

Jemma gave him an encouraging smile and stepped over the wire. Fitz held his breath as her legs passed over it, the faint hum of the electricity crackling in his ears.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' he asked.

She nodded. 'Positive.'

Jemma's mouth was set in a firm line; Fitz knew that look and he also knew that there was no point in trying to dissuade her further. He stepped back.

With a deep breath, Jemma turned away from him and tiptoed down the corridor towards the corner. She hesitated only momentarily before stepping out where the guards could see her.

'Hey!'

Even though she must have known it was coming, Jemma started, with a little squeak. Then, she turned on her heel and started running back to him, with the sound of gunshots hot on her heels.

'Jump it, jump it,' Fitz mumbled under his breath as she approached the wire.

Sure enough, with a little hop-skip, Jemma vaulted over the wire just before the two guards turned the corner.

'Stop!'

'Not bloody likely,' Fitz muttered, grabbing Jemma by the arm and dragging her forward as red paint bullets splattered on the walls around them.

Pushing Jemma in front of him, Fitz turned back to watch, just as the guards knees hit the wire. They both yelled, and there was a faint fizz and then a popping noise as all the lights on the walls went out and the two guards bodies fell to the floor.

Agent Philbin hadn't been kidding when she said the electrics in the simulation were real.

'I can't believe that actually worked,' Fitz marvelled, as Jemma hurried over to take the now unconscious agents pulses.

'Do you have so little faith in my ideas?'

'I have little faith in your knowledge of electrics.'

She nudged his shoulder playfully and caught his gaze with a laugh in her eyes, which died away quickly as she looked at him. 'Fitz, what's wrong?'

He'd been staring again. He'd been staring and she had noticed, again. Fitz wanted to kick himself for it.

Jemma turned to face him. 'Fitz, is there something the matter?'

'What?'

'I mean, is there something...' she hesitated. 'Is there something you want to tell me?'

Fitz froze. Once, when he had been very young, he had been driving home with his mum at night when a stag had trotted into the road, crossing the car's path. His mum had shrieked, and swerved to the left, and the stag had sprinted across the road before vanishing into the woods. But Fitz had never forgotten the look of alarm in the animal's face, caught in the headlights, and he imagined that his own face was mimicking it right now.

Jemma was still looking at him, her brow slightly furrowed but there was something in her eyes, something that looked suspiciously like _hope_ , and it made his mouth run dry.

He wanted to tell her. God, he wanted to tell her how he felt even more than he wanted to get out of this bloody assessment (and he wanted to get out really badly). Just looking up at her, with her wide eyes and flushed cheeks, made him want to tell her even more, to tell her and hold her and then kiss her. The words bubbled up inside Fitz like a tidal wave and his mouth hovered half open, on the brink of letting them spill over. But then he swallowed them back bitterly.

There would be a time and a place for telling Jemma how he felt about her, and crouching in a field simulation over a pair of unconscious agents was definitely not it.

'No,' he said, shaking his head. 'There's nothing I want to tell you.'

Something flickered over Jemma's face and for a moment Fitz thought it might have been disappointment. Then, she stood up abruptly, brushing invisible specks of dirt off her leggings.

'Right. Good.' She blinked rapidly a few times, then stepped over the bodies. 'Let's get this over with then.'

Fitz scrambled to his feet to follow her, suddenly feeling like he had said the wrong thing. 'Jemma...'

'Fitz,' she interrupted, turning back to him. 'Let's just...' She sighed, running her hand over her hair. She was tired, he could tell. The tears shining in her eyes were the give away for that. 'I just want to get out of here now. Can we...'

'Yeah.' Fitz nodded, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. 'Yeah. Let's get it over with.'

Jemma gave a weak smile and together they made their way down to the door of the lab. There was a security panel at the door, but Fitz had removed the ID scanner from one of the guards. As soon as he swiped it across the panel, the doors would open and all hell would break loose (or so he imagined).

'So, the plan is...'

'...Just shoot,' Fitz said, grimly.

Jemma grimaced. 'Right.' She shifted her gun awkwardly in her hands. 'Nothing to lose.'

Fitz looked at her. 'Nothing to lose,' he repeated softly and passed the ID scanner over the security panel so the doors slid smoothly open.

Together, they placed their fingers on their triggers and stepped into the room...only to find it completely empty. Or, at least, empty of people.

The lab was larger, and whiter, than any other lab Fitz had ever been in. There were long white benches stretching across the lab with a wide aisle in between them and white cupboards lining the walls. In the centre of the lab was a white pedestal, with the glass case Fitz had seen on the monitor earlier resting on it. Inside the case, was a small metal cylinder.

Jemma exhaled. 'Well, that was decidedly anti-climatic.'

Fitz wanted to laugh, but there was an uneasy twist in his gut telling telling him not to get too comfortable.

'Let's just get the damn thing and then get out of here,' he said, striding purposefully up to the case and examining it.

The case didn't seem to be linked up to an alarm system, which he found odd. If the substance was so precious that it was buried deep in the heart of such an elaborate security facility, then why not give it the closest line of defence?

'They must have been so sure,' Jemma murmured, practically reading his mind. She had come up to stand behind his shoulder and was so close to him that Fitz could feel her breath hot on the side of his neck and the tangy scent of sweat mingling with her shower gel. 'So sure that no one would ever get this far and that they wouldn't need to protect it any further.'

'Yeah, well,' Fitz said, shrugging his pack off to get out a screwdriver. 'S.H.I.E.L.D got this far.'

The top of the glass container was going to be easy to unscrew, however Fitz's nerves were still on edge. Compared to everything else they had been through today, this felt far too easy. Maybe there were motion sensors around the case, or finger print recognition technology embedded in the glass. His fingers hovered over the top of the it, shaking.

'I'll see if I can find anything to transport it in,' Jemma said, stepping back. 'We still don't know what it is and we don't want it imploding on us on the way out.'

'Because then we know we would have definitely failed.'

She chuckled as she left him and Fitz's shoulders relaxed. Whatever uneasy feeling had been between them outside had melted away and they were a team again, united in their mission. This was how it was supposed to be, Fitz thought to himself. If they ever did find themselves in the field (which he was 99.9% sure would _never_ happen), they would have to be there together. S.H.I.E.L.D would just have to live with it.

Fitz began to unscrew the lid of the container, his fingers poised to drop it if lasers started to descend from the ceiling to cut him to shreds. Miraculously, none did and Fitz carefully lifted the top off and set it gently down on the floor, before reaching in to pick up the metal cylinder. It was cool to touch and didn't have a countdown ticking down the side, which was always an encouraging sign. He breathed out in relief.

'S'not a bomb,' he said. 'But if it is dangerous then we can't be too careful. Did you find...' Fitz's words died in his throat as he turned around.

He knew it had been too easy.

Jemma was standing maybe ten meters away from him, stock still and bolt upright. A guard stood behind her, with one hand clamped firmly on her right shoulder. His other hand held a gun pressed to her left temple.

With a forward-thinking he hadn't known he possessed, Fitz's eyes flicked down to his pack and to where he had dropped his own gun in his eagerness to investigate the glass container.

'Go ahead,' the guard said, having watched Fitz make the mental assessment. 'In the time it takes for you to pick it up and fire it at me, I'll have already shot her.' Idly, he moved the gun further into Jemma's hairline and she flinched visibly. Inside his chest, Fitz's heart skipped a beat.

'You have a choice,' the guard continued. 'Either you go for the gun, I shoot her and, if your reflexes are fast enough, you shoot me and escape with the substance. Or, we compromise. I let her go and you put down that container.'

'Fitz,' Jemma began to warn. 'Don't-'

The guard's hand moved smoothly from her shoulder to cover her mouth, muffling her shout of protest. Clutched around the metal cylinder, Fitz's fingers tensed.

He could imagine what she was starting to say. _Don't compromise_. It was the one rule S.H.I.E.L.D had drilled into them since their early days at the Academy: no one agent was worth putting potentially dozens more lives in danger. The lives of the civilians they had dedicated their lives to trying to protect always came first, no matter who the agent in question was.

This was a test. This was a S.H.I.E.L.D test, and they would be assessing him on his ability to play by their rules. Compromise was out of the question.

'I will give you until the count of three,' the guard was saying. He cocked his gun. 'One...'

But this wasn't just an agent, not to him. This was Jemma, his best friend, the person he cared about most in the world, save his mum. How the hell would he be able to look at her ever again if he let her get shot?

'Two...'

_But it's not real_ , said his head.

_Shut up_ , his heart ordered.

'Thr-'

'Alright!' Fitz shouted. 'Alright, I'll put it down. Just...just let her go.'

The guard loosened his hand on Jemma's mouth and brought his gun away from her head. He gave her a none-too-gentle shove to the side and nodded towards Fitz.

Without taking his eyes away from the two of them, Fitz dropped to his knees and set the metal cylinder down on the ground. Then, he slowly got back to his feet again, raising his arms up in the air in surrender. He licked his lips nervously. Just meters away from him, Jemma was standing next to the guard still, his hand resting on her shoulder. She was looking at him with emotions he could not quite decipher from one another – fear, disbelief, affection; they all muddled together until he couldn't even be sure she was still looking at him.

The guard nodded. 'Interesting choice,' he commented.

Then, he raised his gun and fired three bullets at Jemma's chest.

Time seemed to slow down. Jemma raised her hand to her chest and let it come away dripping red. She had given a little gasp as she had been hit, and her mouth had frozen half-way through making the sound, so that it was making a little 'o' shape. Her face turned back to Fitz slowly, riddled with shock.

Fitz's vision tunnelled. The lab around him vanished; the only things he could see were the guard, Jemma and the slowly growing stain of red on her vest. There was a deafening rush in his ears and he could feel the heat building behind his eyes.

The guard raised the gun towards him and Fitz saw red.

Without quite knowing what he was doing, Fitz bend down and scooped the metal container for the objective back up. Pulling his arm back, he threw it as hard as he could in the direction of the guard.

The cylinder sailed through the air and landed with a clink about a meter away from the guard, before rolling to rest against his boot.

For one horrible moment, Fitz wondered whether they had been bluffing with them and that the container was a dud, and he had just made an utter fool of himself. But then there was a click and a hiss and the room filled with a sharp, chemical scent and he decided that he had actually just been plain stupid.

The guard went down first, his hand over his nose. Jemma followed, sliding backwards down the nearest bench.

As the chemical filled his nose, and he found his body drooping and darkness tingeing the edges of his vision, Fitz realised gloomily that now he had _definitely_ failed the assessment.

 

 

'I still can't believe that you _threw_ the flaming thing.'

'Seriously? A completely hot-headed, down-right idiotic move like that? _I_ can believe he threw it. In fact, I'd find it hard to believe that he _wouldn't_ throw it.'

Fitz rolled his eyes and took a sip of his beer. He was sitting on Mark and Connor's couch back at their flat, Jemma next to him and the rest of their ragtag team gathered in the flat, “celebrating” their mutual failures. So far, the relentless teasing about what had gone down in the lab, and the beer he was currently drinking, had been the highlight of Fitz's day.

It had been five hours since he had woken up in the medical bay of the assessment facility with a raging headache and a distinct sense of disorientation. Jemma had been lying next to him, as had been the three agents they had managed to knock unconscious during their three-hour long assessment. Apparently they were the only Sci-Ops in twenty years agents to have actually incapacitated the agents standing in as guards. Fitz wasn't entirely sure whether he should be horrified or proud of that fact.

'Oh, leave him alone,' Fleming scolded Mark and Jones, who were sniggering together at the dining room table. She perched on the edge of the armchair Connor was sitting in and smiled at Fitz. ' _I_ think it was a terribly brave thing to do.'

Connor shook his head. 'Rule number one, Fitz my friend,' he said. 'Never negotiate with the enemy.'

'You were lucky it was only dentrotoxin in the canister,' Jones pointed out. 'Imagine if it had been a bomb, or a virus, or...'

'It couldn't have been a virus,' Jemma piped up next to him. She had let her hair out of its ponytail and now it was curling softly over her shoulders. Despite having been running through a simulation all day and knocked unconscious for a hour, she still looked absolutely radiant to Fitz. 'It wouldn't have been a suitable container, even if it was an airborne pathogen.'

'Alright, enough about the damn container.' Mark grinned. 'I want to hear more about how Jones and Fleming failed because Jones saw a mouse...'

Jones' head dropped to the ground with a groan, while Fleming launched into delightedly describing how high in the air her partner had jumped. Fitz chuckled; somehow knowing Jones was afraid of mice made him feel infinitely friendlier towards the guy.

Next to him, Jemma was twisting the head of her beer bottle in her hands. She had been quiet ever since they had left the facility, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.

Fitz inched his way closer to her on the couch. 'Hey,' he said, low enough so the others couldn't hear. 'You okay?'

She nodded. 'Just tired, really. It's been a long day.'

'Yeah, the longest,' Fitz agreed quietly.

They sat there together, watching the others laughing. Mark was recounting his own “death”, his arms waving wildly in the air as he replicated his movements. Connor was chuckling in appreciation of the gestures, his eyes watching his partner with warm affection.

Fitz remembered Connor's concern for Mark back in the simulation and felt a sudden surge of anger towards S.H.I.E.L.D. It was wrong, he thought, to split up established partnerships once in the field. It was almost cruel; letting two people get so attached to each other, so used to working with one another and then to expect them to be able to concentrate when they were apart and not have their thoughts constantly with the other. He and Jemma had accomplished far more once they were together, and Fitz's mind hadn't constantly been straying to whether she was safe instead of focused on the mission.

But then, hadn't them being together just caused even more problems? Every time Fitz closed his eyes, the image of Jemma with a gun pressed to her head was printed on the backs of his eyelids. He wondered how different the situation would have been if it had been another agent, one he didn't know, with him in the lab. Had he only acted the way he had because it was Jemma? If it had been any one else, would he have let them die to allow him the time to escape with the objective? Fitz wasn't sure he wanted the answer to that question.

He looked across at Jemma, reassuring himself for the umpteenth time since he'd woken up that she was still there. Logically, he'd known that she had never really been in danger in the assessment, that the bullets striking her had just been paint, but that hadn't stopped it from terrifying him.

Now, for the first time, he properly understood Agent Philbin's warning. When you were in the field, you couldn't afford to think with your heart. But when it came to Jemma, Fitz found it incredibly difficult to think with anything else.

'You're doing it again,' Jemma murmured suddenly. 'You're staring.'

Fitz's eyes snapped forwards again, embarrassed. 'Sorry.'

'S'alright.' Jemma shrugged, taking a long drink of her beer. 'I don't mind.' Then, she frowned. 'Well, I would mind. If it was anyone else. But it's not. It's you. And I don't mind you staring at me.'

Fitz smiled, leaning his head on the back of the sofa. 'Good to know.'

'Fitz?'

'Hmm?'

Jemma sat up, shifting her legs so they were tucked under her and she was facing him. 'I don't condone what you did today,' she said severely. 'It was utterly unprofessional and dangerously impulsive. And, actually, Mark was right. It was completely idiotic.'

'Gee, thanks, Simmons.'

'I'm not done.'

'Oh. Right.'

'It was completely idiotic,' Jemma repeated. 'But I did appreciate it.' She gave him a soft smile, and Fitz felt his insides melt. 'Thank you. For compromising for me.'

'I'd do it again,' he mumbled, and realised it was true as soon as the words came tumbling out of his mouth. 'If it ever came down to it. I'd do it every damn time.'

Jemma nodded carefully. 'I know you would,' she whispered. Then, she reached out and squeezed the top of his knee gently. 'And I'd do it for you.'

A slow smile spread across Fitz's face. 'Yeah?'

Jemma bumped the side of his leg with the back of her hand. 'Course. Don't be daft, Fitz.'

'Thanks, Jem.'

She smiled back at him, her face lighting up and her cheeks slightly flushed from the beer. It was the kind of smile that made Fitz want to light up too, the kind of smile that reminded him exactly why he would always compromise when it came to Jemma Simmons.

They held each other's eyes for a split second too long; Jemma broke the gaze first and clapped her palms together.

'So,' she said slightly too brightly. 'Another beer? To celebrate completely blowing our first field assessment?'

Fitz rubbed the back of his neck. 'Yeah, go on then.'

Jemma patted his knee as she heaved herself to her feet, her fingers leaving tingling imprints on his skin.

'I've certainly blown it, that's for sure,' Fitz muttered, but Jemma was already too far away to hear.

And so that was that.

Leopold Fitz was a lot of things. He was utterly unprofessional and dangerously impulsive and completely idiotic.

And he was also 100%, head-over-heels in love with his best friend.

 

 

_"But at some point you smiled, and, holy shit..._

_I blew it."_

 


End file.
